The Summer Solstice Secret Garden Party

Ah, the blessed quiet of a Sunday morning with everyone else still abed. Kettle is on for another life-returning cuppa...hot silky tea is the sexiest thing I know in the morning...pitiful pekoe punky junkie.

Ooh-la...I'm an old, tired, sore woman today...ah, but it was worth it. The great pie-in-the-sky was kind and shined (mostly) on a day they assured us would rain. A light breeze from the southwest, moist by evening. 'Twas the day of the Summer Solstice Secret Garden Party.

Imagine yourself walking through a metal-sculptured archway, lined on each side with ceramic shells and huge pots filled to spilling with a paintbox of flowers. As you walk through, you look directly at the firepit which is stacked and ready. Just beyond is the cairn that marks the grave of old Mr. Pig, our host's beloved pet. The path veers to the right, around the cedars and to the gazebo, where we were setting up to play amid more flowers, driftwood creatures and brightly-painted mobiles.

This is a garden of "rooms"...beyond the gazebo room, with its incredible flowerbeds and gentle lawn, you could choose to walk through an evergreen tunnel to the house, walk behind the gazebo into the wild woods, walk another pathway by the garage to the pond and rock garden to watch and listen to the waterfall, or you can continue around the back of the house, past P's studio, through more woods full of madronas, evergreens and ferns...to the garden where the latest huge Mr. Pig lives. Turn and walk up the hill from here and you're back to the open lawn and gazebo, past the gobsmacking flowerbeds.

Our audience here is a very eclectic mix of generations, artists, writers, and passionate volunteers for community and world. A lotta ol' hippies, a touch of Goth to punctuate the Hawaiin Punch shirts, softened by the pastel summer dresses and the familiarity of this gathering. As my bass-player announced, "We've been playing this gig since 1939!"

I love when Anna can sing with me...her dreamy harmonies and being able to follow whether I slide or leap on a song like "Moonglow" make the elders melt. She was so tired and her hand was becoming numb...but she still sang the caboodle outta "The Weight"....oh yeah, my girl taking the lead! Eclectic is our mix aussi. Slipping originals in here and there, we also did a bit of Leonard Cohen (the great Canadian Velvet Growl) some Jimmy Cliff, Ella, Monk, Van Morrison, Tennessee Ernie Ford (Sixteen Tons...uh-huh) Lady Day, and even a little Tim Hardin. The trees danced and let go some leaves in their applause...the snapdragons smiled.

Let me tell you...I work my ass off at gigs...not that it's not cookin' on my spoon...but...if I'm getting up on stage, I'm goin' somewhere and I'm gonna take you with me...with voice, hands, hips...everything I've got. In my dance I conduct the band (sound doing some funny things in gazebos and gardens, so it's important to have a constant) and often leave the stage to get the dancing going. This seems to be done in some trance-like state of bliss that doesn't allow me to feel any pain. As an example, I've done a rehearsal, audition and gig before taking myself to the ER for kidney stones. Lorraine's hardcore...the show must go on! My beautiful daughter is a fruit not far from the tree.

I mean...we have to laugh at ourselves as we collapse back on her (oh how I love the memory foam) bed...each of us making noises somewhere between old-lady and seal-like in tone with each movement. After three hours of singing with an ill-fitting upper denture, I have rubbed my inner cheek raw and bleeding, and my jaw is out of alignment. Both of us have screaming joints and backs...but we're smiling 'cos we had our fix. The afternoon was beautiful, the potluck spread was as incredible as it's always been (since 1939) the breeze kept the skitters to a minimum, and an audience that clap, hollah, hug and make magic with you...what can I say that's big enough for that feeling?

Spring Fling...from the music side...

Spring Fling was Jazz Musette's first gig of the year, after spending the winter doing the work of arrangements, rehearsals and recording. It may look easy when we're up on stage but many hours' (not to mention the years of training) hard work are behind it. I'm not complaining, indeed it's the kind of work that feeds me and I reach for the creative process hungrily. In a world where so much is out of our control, the music is where we go for sanity...and making worlds of our own.

After setting up the equipment, Bebop said, "Wow, I dreamt I found some musicians to play with...and we made a band...and ended-up onstage and....WHOA....here we are!!" The day any of us loses this kind of enthusiasm, we better hang it up. But, in nearly forty years this spark still ignites.

Bebop, Ed and Mark have played together much longer...but this year marks my tenth anniversary with the band...and T3's fifth. Reason enough to celebrate, I'd say. What a difference a decade makes. Meeting the fellas and having old jazz standards come back from muscle-memory was to begin a whole new chapter of my career...a career I thought was in semi-retirement from, upon leaving the New York scene. After all those years of belting out rock, R&B, and blues...jazz welcomed me softly and with a joy of being able to adjust my style for longevity. You have no idea the strength required to have your voice dominate over a wall o' amps. Even Janis Joplin wouldn't be screaming like Janis Joplin, had she lived to this age in her music. The first Thursday I ever joined the Musetteers still stands out clearly for the thrill of being able to play with tone, timbre and levels in my voice. Not since the early days of Folk music had my abdominal muscles been allowed to get out of crunch mode.

I didn't know that night would begin to mold all my melodies and stories into a whole new catalogue of songs...and into what seems like the most creative period of my life.

It's always a thrill when Anna feels well enough to join us onstage and supply her wonderful harmonies, her beautiful energy. She was three years old the first time she marched up onto a stage with me...and brought down the house, singing a perfect harmony. I had put the microphone down as far as it would go and went on my knees beside her. Up on the stage and with whatever band, she was at home...never going through that awful period of stagefright. We had always planned to sing together, until Lyme disease took away her strength to join me. Thankfully, under proper treatment, Anna is now able to be a part of Jazz Musette on her "good" days.

The Ides of March may not have been so good for Julius Caeser...but it was a great night and gig for us! We debuted a few new numbers, which the audience seemed to enjoy...Dance Me To The End Of Love by Leonard Cohen was given a little French flavour, with Mark playing accordion and Ed on clarinet. Leonard Cohen (The Canadian Velvet Growl, as I like to call him) is one of the best lyricists of our age. We did another of his songs to end the night, "The Tower Of Song," which speaks so much to us aging musicians.

"Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey...I ache in the places where I used to play...and I'm crazy for love...but I'm not comin' -on...I'm just payin' my rent every day...in the tower of song..."

The third surprise for our regular and faithful audience, I dedicated to the current administration...and we launched into good ol Tennessee Ernie Ford's "Sixteen Tons," to laughter...and a lot of people singing along! The solo for this song, we gave to T3 on drums...what better way to illustrate the hammering rhythm of owing one's soul to the Company Store than with drums? T3 was both tasty and expressive in his solo.

I had a pain patch on my lower back (oh...dem bones, dem bones...) and the music made the magic it always does in bringing me to bliss. I didn't feel a twinge as a Latin rhythm version of Nat King Cole's "Nature Boy," made my hips have a mind of their own. Mind you, OWWAM (the Old Woman Who Ate Me) grounded me the next day! But it was worth it.

How can I explain what performing does for me? If you thought of the best meal of your entire life...the best sex of your entire life...the best connection to Creation of your entire life...the best meditation in your entire life...the best intoxication...mixed all that together...you still would fall short of the 'fix' performing is for me. Here's how I try to explain it...of course, in a song....

Recipe For Tonight copyright 2003 Lorraine Hart

I came tonight...like a junkie for my fix
Of the starlight in the mix
Between the band...and your ears
Like to drive me to tears

Outside of time...there's a moment we can share
Mix up some moonglow for us there
Inside the Rhyme...and the reason
Add libido to season

Stir up a cosmic thought...over the fire
Raise the bar...let's get a little higher
Don't ya know, before we're through
We're swimmin' in a Witchy Brew
The recipe for tonight
You know...we ain't cookin' light
Let's make somethin' of the night!

It is the audience that completes the performer. I am ever mindful of that fact and grateful, always, for the magic we make together. See you at the Liveable Community Fair in May!